2007-05-18, 5:11 p.m.
Day 999 Decisions
In the course of any project large or small, there is usually one good decision made and one not so good decision made. In the case of replacing the dishwasher at la casa Brian, the good decision was saving that threaded brass elbow for the water inlet. It was absolute necessity with the new dishwasher.
The bad decision involved the other end of the water system, namely the waste hose. As I was hooking it up, I thought the diameter of the business end of the waste hose was a leetle too big to comfortably fit over the waste inlet on the disposal. Sure, the hose clamp would hold it on tightly enough, but I worried that it might kink a little (not a good place to be kinky, under the sink like that) and leak. Kink = fine, in it’s place, leak = bad, anywhere.
I continued on with the remainder of the job figuring I’d burn the waste outlet bridge later. Got to the point where most everything else was done and we were ready for a ‘dry run’. In a partial ‘out of my mind’ moment, I actually grabbed the installation instructions and leafed through to the page about the waste hose and did a little reading.
Bad move. The waste hose was designed to fit 2 different sized fittings, 1” and 5/8” If you had the smaller fitting, all you had to do was cut the end of the hose off at some line marked on the fitting itself. “That’s for me!” I figured. Hacked the end off the waste hose with nary a second thought. Dumb ass. Seems my disposal has an odd sized fitting. Not quite an inch, but no where near 5/8” either. With the end hacked off the hose, there was also no going back. But!! I saved the old waste hose, thinking, well, I wasn’t thinking, but I did save it. I get it, crawl back under the sink, feed it through the opening into the dishwasher cavity, slide over to the dishwasher to fit that end on. Won’t fit. Has a built in elbow, which makes routing a chore, and it’s clearly the wrong (too small) size. Shit, shit, shit.
Off I go to H0me Desp0t. At 7:30. With no dinner going and Cindy actually passed out upstairs, in bed. (Maybe more on that later) Spent 30 or so minutes at HD, only to find that not only do they not sell the specific hose I need, they don’t sell anything close. They also wouldn’t let me steal the one out of the pre-pack kit on their demo model washer. Tightwads. The plumbing department dude did come up with some hokey looking fitting that had a chance of working. Maybe. It was $3. Sold.
HD’s self checkout – avoid it at all costs. What a pain in the ass. Long story short – the fitting worked. Waste hose is connected, no leaks. Dishwasher runs fine, nobody got dishpan hands last night. And the last stark, white appliance is now out of the kitchen. Nothing but black & stainless. Looks so sweet with the hickory cabinets.
You know, I always thought that as an addict kept using their drug of choice, they built up a tolerance for it and had to keep using more and more to get the same effect. (I’m humming Gun’s & Roses “Mr. Brownstone” now. Used to do a little, then a little wouldn’t do it, so the little got more and more. Great instrumentals, disturbing lyrics). Oh – the point. Got home about 5:45 last night. Later than I wanted, but I never thought it would take 3 hours and a trip to HD to install that stupid dishwasher. When I got home and started oogling the dishwasher (still in the garage at this point) I could tell Cindy had had a drink or two, but she hadn’t slipped into using drunklish yet.
I forget precisely which point in the install process we consumed with at the moment, but Cindy had just wobbled her way through from the powder room back to the living room. Looked like she was on the ‘Tilt-a-Whirl’. Eric and I voiced our concerns to her about her stability, asking her to please go settle down on the couch and sit before she fell or something. Prophetic words.
We had no sooner than returned our focus to screwing up the waste hose, when we heard a rather loud crash & boom from the family room. The crash was a combination of things, mostly the sound of ice cubes, whiskey & ginger ale sloshing across the coffee table and landing on the carpet. The boom was Cindy’s ass ping-ponging (Yes, it’s a word. Now.) between the coffee table & couch before settling on the floor.
I didn’t rush out to see what happened. I needed to finish something first. About a minute or so after the event, I poked my head around the corner to find Cindy on the floor, sort of prostrate, wedged in between the coffee table & couch. Looked like she was having trouble deciding if she wanted to get up or not. The scariest part is that she was trying to use the glass top of the coffee table as a leverage point to haul herself up. I was a little concerned that she’d break the glass and slice up her entire forearm, wrist & brachial artery included. The drink she had soaked the carpet, and ironically enough also got on our wedding album, which had been stored on the lower tier of the coffee table.
I cleaned up the mess the drink made. Mostly. Moved the coffee table out of the way so it wasn’t a handy hoisting point, because asking Cindy to not try and climb up on the table wasn’t working. I asked a few times if she wanted a hand up, but got no answer. With that, I headed back to the kitchen and finished off the waste hose.
Went out and asked Cindy again if she wanted a hand up. Finally, through soggy (groggy? Either way . . .) eyes she assented. Got her up on the couch. Sort of. Went back out and kicked myself about the waste hose. Watched Cindy do the bob & weave back to the powder room. Pity that the more you drink, the more you have to pee and the less able you are to get there. Wish I’d done a video of it. Maybe next time. Not for you or me, for her, to see later.
Against our better wishes, she tried to navigate the stairs after dumping some ballast. (That’d be peeing. That’s all) There are 13 stairs, if you count the landing platform. Took her 2 minutes to negotiate that obstacle course. About another 5 minutes after that, we heard another boom, this time emanating from upstairs. Went upstairs to check it out. What a sight. Cindy had managed to regain something of a sitting position, but as I poked my head through the bathroom door, she tumbled again (from a sitting position!!) and whacked her head against a dresser. She seemed to be partway through getting ready for bed, and getting her jeans off was the final straw. I mean, she DID get her jeans off, but she must have fallen off the hope chest during the final tug. There she sat, pants in hand, shirt on, looking up at me through red, bleary eyes. Getting no answer after asking her if she needed a hand, I left her to figure out what the hell she wanted to do next.
I had a hose to fix.
That pretty much ended the entertainment part of the evening. Eric & I got the part we needed. Dishwasher was installed, we gave it a test. Of course, while all this was going on no one was cooking dinner. Finally, about 8:30pm we called for some take out. Went up to ask Tipsy McDrunkerton what she wanted for dinner. Found her fast asleep, sawing wood like nobody’s business. Big surprise there.
Eric saw all this first hand. Welcome home from college dude. Bet you thought it was only freshmen that did that. Hah!! Zach & Jill were spared witnessing it, but caught the whole thing in instant replay.
Lovely workout this morning. Seemed to have an extra dose of angst to grind. In the spin class, Gary was almost his usual sadistic self. He tweaked his back recently and consequently has to take it a little easier on himself. That means we, as a class, also get it a little easier. Sort of.
Tomorrow is my “Lap of Western Monroe County” in celebration of 1000 days lived absolutely smoke free. Last I figured, it’s about a 45-mile loop. Should be able to knock it off in less than 3 hours. The southern portions might have a slight hill or two, but the more northerly reaches are much closer to the lake and ought to be relatively flat. I’ll be passing through 3 villages and several busy crossroads so opportunities to refill on both liquids & snacks will be abundant. Only problem is what to wear. Weather channel is calling for 50 degrees & sunny at 8 am and a whopping 62 at noon. (It was 86 Tuesday. Welcome to May in Rochester.)
I’ll figure it out tonight, somehow. Need to work through some other equipment issues too. This will be a good test run for the tour.
Off to see what the mood is at home tonight. Ought to be a real adventure.
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